Marbles
by Meredith A. Jones
Summary: A woman has been murdered. The three suspected killers are: the husband, the neighbor Michael Dawson, and...Atticus? Warning: Mockingbirds will possibly be injured, but not killed. Please R&R! CHAPTER 2 POSTED!
1. Chapter 1

Marbles  
Chapter 1

Author's Note: I really started to like this idea more and more after I got it. I know exactly what's going to happen and how it'll end and everything, so all you have to do is stay with me. This won't be too long, but hopefully if you like it enough, it'll make up for length. Enjoy!

OoOoO

"Aw, Boo, guess what happened yesterday? I found out somethin'. Jem likes girls. He's been writin' notes to that ol' Margaret Applewhite in the neighborhood downtown near the courthouse. Her daddy's friends with my daddy. He told him once that every day, he'd look out the win-da and see Atticus in there pacin' the floor and doing the lawyer things he does. That was when Atticus proposed puttin' shades on the courthouse win-das - but Judge Taylor was the first to speak up, and he said" - Scout Finch furrowed her eyebrows, puckered her lips, and spoke in a low voice - "'Mistuh Finch, you know better'n any-un else in this town that those win-das are the on'y good way t' light th' whole courtroom right.' I know if I had an Applewhite lookin' in on me every day while I was carryin' out my business, I'd want shades on my win-das too, no matter how many times I got those "Mister" or "Miss Finch"-es."

The Applewhites always were a wealthy family. The father had had hundreds of dollars in the stock market before it crashed, but they still were well off after it, or they seemed it. The whole family dressed up for church every Sunday, and the children were always dressed flawlessly for school. The only thing that indicated their possible journey downhill was their faces. The mother's had gone first. Her cheeks had already begun to sink into her face, and her neck had gotten considerably more stick-like. The father's mustache had grayed, and his fingers, when out of his pockets (a now uncommon thing, as he tried to hide them) were seen to be twigs, much unlike the old muscle-bound healthy looking fingers he used to have.

Then, the children had gone.

Margaret Applewhite's eyes had begun to darken, and her lips were almost always chapped. One day she came to school with dirt on her collar, and a rip in her dress, something that before, no one anywhere, from any place, any age, would have seen. Daniel Applewhite, her younger brother, now always looked like a gargoyle, with wide eyes, a gaping mouth, and spindly deer-like legs.

Atticus once said that he still respected the family because they still had the courage to hold their head up and pretend like nothing had changed, even though they knew in their hearts that things had, and had changed dramatically, for the worst. He said it took brave men to resist giving in to the effects of horrible circumstances, and that if he had a choice between a rich man, and a person who pretends to be a rich man, he'd choose the latter any day.

"You know what people say? People say they only don't wash their clothes 'cause soap's so expensive, but then, you know, sometimes I wonder why Atticus still makes Cal wash our clothes. They've still got more money than we do. Mr. Applewhite's still got a job and everything. Not the same one as he had before, but he's got one as a shoe salesman. That's as good as any job, I guess.

"I don't know much about Margaret, though - just that she's got a brother my age. He's always talkin' about fancy stuff, like fish eggs and starched suits. I did ask him about the soap once, you know. He kinda tilted up his head and said that he wouldn't even know, that I was askin' the wrong person, 'cause he's not the one who washes the clothes. He said that if it's true, the money's bein' spent on better things. If you ask me, Boo, I can't think of anything much better'n soap."

Nathan Radley had come out of the kitchen soon after, and shooed Scout back home. She walked home gloomily and preoccupied, kicking a can down the road, and flattening it on the sidewalk when she reached her house.

"Jem," she called when she got on the porch. "Jem, you home yet?" Scout opened the screen door carefully, and let it slam shut behind her when she entered the kitchen.

"Yeah, Scout, I'm home," Jem answered from his bedroom, "Atticus isn't, though. He went to see Mr. Applewhite."

"Mr. Applewhite!" Scout exclaimed, giggling, "Fancy that, Jem, I was just talkin' about him!" Scout hopped into Jem's room and flung herself onto his bed. He was on the floor biting into an apple, his school books scattered around him. "Why's he got to see him, Jem?"

"I don't know. Cal didn't tell me much," Jem sighed.

"Do you think it's somethin' bad?"

"I hope it's not."

"Why, 'cause of Margaret?"

Jem shot an angry look at his sister. "What do you know about Margaret?"

"That you like her, is all."

"Good. You don't know nothin' about them Applewhites. They're good, respectable folks, just like us Finches."

"Whatever you say, Jem. I hear they don't even buy soap."

"That's a lot of nonsense, Scout."

"It's true, Jem, it's true, I - "

"Jem? Scout?"

Jem looked at his sister sharply. "Atticus's home."

"Come on, Jem, let's go ask him!"

The children both snapped from their positions and went to greet their father.

"Hey, Atticus!" Scout said, wrapping her arms around his waist. Calpurnia came out of the kitchen as well, and frowned at Scout.

"Goodness me, Jean Louise. Let your father breathe a moment. Mister Finch, did they give you supper already, or should I start cookin' those lambchops?"

"That's fine, Cal," Atticus said, putting his hand on top of his daughter's tangled hair. He attempted to straighten it out with his fingertips, while she pulled away. "Go on and cook - I haven't eaten anything since breakfast." Calpurnia nodded and disappeared. Scout watched her go, buried her face back in her father's coat, and smiled to herself, for she smelled the strong scent of a well-done steak off of him.

"What'd you go over to the Applewhites's house for, Atticus?" asked Jem. Atticus took off his hat with his free hand, drew in a breath, and adjusted his glasses.

"They had to ask me a question, Jem."

"But why were you there so long? You were out too long for just a question."

"Well," said Atticus, shifting his weight, "you know how it is when you get to talking to somebody. It's often difficult to stop. Well, anyhow - Scout, Jem, why don't the two of you go and wash up for supper?"

"Is everything all right, Atticus?" said Scout, who had a natural way of reading people's emotions like a minister would preach the holy book.

"Everything's fine, Scout."

But everything was not fine.

Margaret Applewhite wasn't in school the next day, or the next day, or even the day after that. On the third day, Jem began to search for answers.

"Cecil - hey, Cecil!"

Cecil Jacobs, who had been playing catch with Charles Little, turned to the pair on the other side of the schoolyard, and waved at them. Jem jogged to him, Scout calling to him to wait for her from behind.

"Cecil, do you know anything about Margaret Applewhite being out for three days?"

Cecil looked at Chuck Little uncomfortably, threw his ball back to him, his face steadily growing more and more rigid and dark, and shuffled Jem and Scout to the most deserted part of the yard, near a giant growth of bushes on the side of the schoolhouse, underneath a fully grown maple tree. It was the one part of the yard that no one ever went to because of its absence of sunlight and sheer spookiness. Cecil Jacobs had a knack for getting the mood for a situation, and this time, he hit the nail directly on the head.

"Mrs. Applewhite's dead," he said quietly. Scout looked at Jem, who shifted. There was a long silence, and Jem licked his lips.

"What killed her?"

"Well, there's been rumors goin' round. The police are startin' to think so too, now, that Mr. Applewhite murdered her."

"He the only one they suspect done it?"

"Nah, they have a neighbor they think mighta done it, or had somethin' to do with it."

"And Atticus's defendin' him? Mr. Applewhite, I mean?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions, Jeremy Finch. And, I don't know anything about that. All's I know is that Mrs. Applewhite's been havin' (or had been havin') an affair with the neighbor, Mr. Michael J. Dawson. Recently, though, she told him it had to stop, and she couldn't go on livin' with herself if she had to cheat on her husband anymore."

"Well then maybe she killed herself."

"Could be - or, Mr. Applewhite found out about it, and he shot her."

"She was shot?"

"Yeah. Right in the very middle of her heart. They said it looked like someone'd gone right up to her with a measurin' stick, found the exact center of it, and pushed the bullet right in like you would a thumb tack. Said one bullet killed her instantly."

Jem's face paled, reminded of only one thing. "Thanks, Cecil. We'd better get goin' home now."

"All right, Jem. I'll see you Monday."

"Yeah, see you Monday."

"Bye, Cecil," Scout said, still feeling as though she needed to speak softly. She and Jem slowly set off towards home. Jem didn't talk for the entire walk, so when the two stopped in front of the Radley house, Scout looked at her brother, took a deep breath, and asked him, "What are you thinkin' about, Jem?"

"Well...just that..." Jem paused, unsure whether he would be able to continue. Hesitantly, he did. "We were gone the other night, Scout, remember?"

"Yeah, for CJ's birthday party. So what?"

"What if..." Jem stepped on his left foot with his right one.

"What if what, Jem?"

"What if Atticus did it?"

Scout's eyes widened wildly, and she stamped her foot on the cement. "_Jeremy Finch, how dare you say somethin' like that!_ You know very well that our Atticus ain't the kind'a person that would kill somebody. He wouldn't have it in him, and he wouldn't let himself lose control like that, for any reason!"

"Scout, remember, they called him 'One-Shot Finch'?"

"Well, I don't care, Jem. I don't care what they called him," said Scout, her eyes slowly wetting with tears of frustration and amazement, "I don't care if they called him - if they called him a straight out murderer. Atticus never killed nobody. He didn't do it." Scout stared at her brother for a long time, fiercely wiped the tears from her eyes, and stamped up onto the porch. There, she spun around angrily, her fists at her sides. "I can't believe that you'd even say somethin' like that. I don't know what would ever make you think that. You say it again, Jeremy Finch, and I'll make you look identical to Mrs. Applewhite, ya hear?" Scout sniffed, turned again, and rang the doorbell. Jem remained on the sidewalk, wincing at the shrieking bell, and dropping his shoulders slightly when Nathan let his sister in the door. He gave one last look at the house, then erased the remaining steps between the Radley gate, and his own door.

OoOoO

Again, you _must _stay with me. It'll get better, I swear...I hope...Don't ask me, I lack self esteem. But anywho, review! and you may just build it up a little more. And read/review Scout and Boo if you feel like it. That one's all right. See ya later. xox Meredith


	2. Chapter 2

Marbles  
Chapter 2

Author's Note: The original introductory paragraph was cut out to be used later, because I don't think I want to reveal everything in chapter 2. I've got a much better place for it. I replaced it with something sufficiently better that'll hopefully make the story a bit better in turn. Lastly, thanks for those five reviews I got from those five different reviewers. It means a lot to me. My wheels are going over a rough spot right in the road right now, and any little bit of encouragement and help, well, helps. I'm glad to be giving back to you in the form of this. So, I hope you enjoy!  
Love,  
Meredith  
Have A Happy New Year! I'll be either alone sitting on my couch or at my computer desk, or doing something with my mother, but either way, I'll be thinking about all of you the entire time.

Update: I replaced chapter 1 with a chapter 1 that I've fixed a few errors in. Don't bother re-reading, it's not much different, just closer to perfect mechanics.

OoOoO

One Summer, when Jem was pushing Scout on the tire swing in the yard, the children saw their father doing something that they'd never seen before. Jem had been watching the Radley house back then, every time they were outside, and during one such distraction, his hand slipped on the tire, and Scout toppled off onto the ground. Jem had heard her shout, and went to help her up. When he got her to her feet, he looked at Atticus on the porch, but the older man hadn't been paying attention to the disturbance. He was focused, instead, on three small glass marbles in his hand. Jem told Scout to look, and when she did, she asked her brother what Atticus had kids' toys for, but he didn't know. Atticus pocketed the glass balls soon after, and resumed his survey of the neighborhood, as if he hadn't been doing anything strange at all. Jem and Scout never asked again, and soon forgot all about the event. Little did they know, their father had gained, and had lost, more marbles since that day. They weren't just kids' toys to him. To him, each one had a meaning.

OoOoO

On March the second, the day that his children had found out about Mrs. Applewhite's death, Atticus Finch got into his car, drove out to the Ewells' dump, and went into the house. His hand was in his jacket, touching the five precious marbles he had brought with him on that day.

"Miss Mayella?" he said, knocking on the door. Mayella Ewell, who was at the stove making breakfast for her seven brothers and sisters, wiped her hands on her already dirty apron, and went to the door.

"Good morning, Mr. Finch," she said quietly.

"Good morning, Mayella. Could I come in?"

"Yes, you may."

Atticus entered the house, took his hat to his chest, and looked around. "My, my, it's been a long while since I visited last," he said, and turned to her with a smile. "It looks to me like you've been keeping up just fine."

"Yes, sir," she said to her feet. He looked the young woman over for a minute. She looked thinner, and her hair looked greasier than ever before. Her clothes were tattered and dirty, and she had brown spots and blemishes on her face. He then looked at the children around the table, making a mess of themselves, screaming and yelling, and pulling each other's hair.

Atticus cleared his throat quietly, and she looked up, alarmed. She turned pale quickly, though the lawyer didn't know why.

"Come out on the porch, Mr. Finch," she said suddenly, then turned to her family, and shouted, "All right, y'all shut your mouths, y'hear? I'm tryin' to carry on a conversation with Mr. Finch and y'all are spittin' your tongues at each other! I mean it, now, be quiet!"

The porch outside was considerably quieter. Mayella told Atticus to take a seat in one of the old rotting chairs that sat on the old rotting porch, and she took her own rotting rocker near him. The two sat in silence for a long time, while Atticus looked through the trees, at the murky pond beyond the house, lost in his thoughts. She was the first to speak up.

"I heard about your case, Mr. Finch," she said. He looked at her and nodded.

"Thomas Applewhite has asked me to defend him against his neighbor, Michael Dawson. Michael Dawson says he didn't do it, and is harshly accusing Mr. Applewhite, saying he lied terribly."

"What does Mr. Dawson have to do with the case, Mr. Finch?"

"Well, Mr. Dawson says he didn't have _anything_ to do with it, but Mr. Applewhite says, 'nonsense, you were in bed with my wife more nights than I have been in eight years.'"

"Who do you believe, sir?"

"Miss Mayella, with all due respect," she shifted in her chair, "I've been asked to defend Mr. Applewhite. I will not state my true opinion because of that."

"Well, you can still tell him 'no', can'cha? You can tell him you want to defend Mr. Dawson instead, can'cha? If you don't trust Mr. Applewhite?"

"I've known Mr. Applewhite for many years, and I've known him for those years as a friend. He is a classy man, who would only lie - "

" - over somethin' like this," Mayella interrupted fiercely. Atticus raised his eyebrows, and closed his mouth, slightly puzzled. He sat back, honestly urging her, and wanting her to go on. "What if he's lyin', Mr. Finch? If he's lyin', you're gonna have a right mess on your hands, you are."

"Miss Ewell - "

"If you don't believe someone, you ought to go against him, oughtn't you? I mean, wouldn't you wanna avoid that mess as hard as you could? Oughtn't you put all your heart into bringin' out the truth?"

"Miss Ewell - "

"Oughtn't you?"

"Miss Ewell, you don't know who I believe," Atticus said firmly. Mayella stared at him for a long time, sat back in her chair, and looked back down at her feet. "I apologize, Mr. Finch," she muttered.

"That's quite all right." Atticus scrutinized her a minute, then folded his hands across his chest, and looked back at the greenish pond.

"Weather's been treatin' us, hasn't it, Mr. Finch?" Mayella said quietly.

"Indeed it has," Atticus replied, and sat still in the chair. A film of algae covered the portion of the pond he was looking at, and a dead bird washed up on shore with a brown bug-eaten leaf. He furrowed his eyebrows, wetted his lips, and sat, staring at it, for the rest of the visit.

OoOoO

Jem returned to the house, his step lacking buzz, and his face as glum as the old porch steps. He found Atticus on the couch in the living room, his head in his paper, and his ankles crossed on the coffee table. Jem had tried to get through the door quietly, but the screen door slammed shut no matter how carefully you tried to close it, and when he crossed in front of the doorway to the living room, he jumped at Atticus' cavernous voice.

"That's a boy with definite moxie if I ever saw one in my life."

Jem turned to him, but saw no indication that he'd spoken. His eyes were still scanning the newsprint, and his glasses were still nearing the end of his nose.

"Sorry, sir?"

Atticus folded his paper, turned his head, and looked at his son over his horn-rimmed frames, a serious look on his face. Scout had gotten her bull's-eye body language analyzing from her father. "Come and sit down."

Jem set his books on the floor in the hall, and slowly went and sat next to his father on the couch. He looked up at him for a while, then, finally remembering where he was, took a breath. "Atticus, can I ask you a question?"

"Go on."

"Well, I know that you never show much...hatred...for anyone. I know it's to set a good example for me'n Scout, and you're doin' a mighty fine job of it, I'll tell you."

Atticus nodded, and lifted the bridge of his glasses frames nearer to his eyes. His attention was double the attention he had given to Mayella a few hours ago.

"Have you ever felt like..." Jem shifted, and nearly laughed at the stupidity of his question. He understood why Scout had thought his presumption foolish. She had realized what had took Jem until he said it aloud, in the time it took to bat an eyelash.

He looked at Atticus again, who remained unmoving and attentive, and bit the inside of his lip. "Have you ever felt like hurtin' anyone? Or...killing them?"

Atticus furrowed his eyebrows, and sat staring at his son for a while. "Yes."

The answer frightened Jem.

"Anyone who has the kind of black heart to feel such malice against another human being."

Jem relaxed.

"You're referring, of course, to Mrs. Jane Applewhite's killer?" The boy was unaware of his slightly gaping mouth. His father never ceased to amaze him. "I don't know how you know about the murder, but - "

"Cecil Jacobs told me'n Scout after school."

"Ah...well, that doesn't surprise me in the least."

Jem stayed silent, biting his lip again. He couldn't elaborate on his question. He couldn't possibly ask his father, and a father like Atticus, if he killed the wife of the man he would be defending in court - if he was defending him.

"Atticus, has Mr. Applewhite asked you to be his defense attorney?"

"Yes, he has."

"Is that why you were at his house the other day?"

"Yes, it was."

"Listen, Atticus, I just - " The door opened in the kitchen, interrupting Jem. He looked back at his father, but had forgotten his thought. "That Scout?" He didn't wait for an answer, and bolted to the kitchen to see his upset sister. "What's the matter, Scout, why ain't you with Mr. Arthur?"

"Boo didn't come down today."

"Didn't come down?"

"Yeah, Mr. Nathan said - " Scout's face darkened when she looked at her brother, and she abruptly ended the conversation, and brushed past him. Atticus went into the hallway, but Scout had already gone to her room. Jem looked at him.

"She says Boo didn't come down today," he mumbled.

Atticus looked at Scout's bedroom door, sighed, and went to it. Scout looked up and answered his knock with a quiet "come in," and he did, his steps slow and careful, as if he were walking in a mine field. He sat on her bed, and she immediately rose and draped her arms around him.

"Why didn't Boo come downstairs today, Atticus?" she moaned. "Is it 'cause there's somethin' wrong with me? Maybe he don't like talkin' to me no more."

"Oh, I don't think it's that, Scout," he said, rubbing her back.

"Then what is it?" Her voice was muffled, her face buried in his shoulder.

"Well, Scout, maybe he was busy, or...not in a condition fit to talk to you."

"What do you mean?" she looked up at him and sniffed.

"Well, maybe he was...maybe he was upset. You know that Mr. Arthur hasn't had the best time of it. Now, tell me what happened."

"Well, Jem'n I walked from school, and he dropped me off at the fence, and - " Scout remembered hers and Jem's conversation. "Atticus, you didn't kill Mrs. Applewhite, did you?"

Atticus raised his eyebrows, and looked at his daughter. If there was one thing about younger children that he was almost never prepared for, it was the fact that they tended to say it like it is, and be incredibly straightforward without being aware of it.

"Who told you that?"

"Jem did."

Atticus's eyebrows dropped, realizing what his son had been trying to ask him before. "No, Scout."

"See? I told him you didn't. I knew it. Jem's so strange, Atticus. Why would he think that?"

"Jem's growing up, Scout." Atticus drew her closer, and put a hand on the back of her head. "He could be looking for something bad in me."

"But there ain't anything, right?"

"Every man carries a thousand troubles. I'm no different." Scout sniffed, and listened. "Every man has regrets, has...battles going on in his mind, and no matter how good you think a person is, everyone has not one, but multiple flaws."

"Like that Sunday we didn't go to church?"

"Something like that, yes." Atticus smiled a minute, but then he became serious once more, and he took on his authoritative tone. "Scout, I did not kill Jane Applewhite. No matter how many people tell you that I have, I have not." Scout nodded, and smiled, relieved.

"Thanks, Atticus. I knew there was somethin' wrong with Jem. You'd never do that." Scout gave her father a curt kiss on the cheek, hopped off of her bed, and went to wash up for supper. Atticus touched a finger to his glasses, and pushed them up slightly on his nose. He then stood, and went back to the living room to read his paper once more. The worst was ahead, he knew, but all he could think about now was that Scout knew the truth now. He'd gotten through to her. She was not like Jem, only because she was young. She only saw things in their simple forms, unlike Jem, who knew more and could contradict his own thoughts, the barrier that most men threw themselves up against very many times in their lives, in attempts to break it, though it simply could not be done.

There really was nothing Atticus Finch could not explain.

OoOoO

Author's Note: Hope you liked this, I certainly enjoyed writing it. Any _Playwright/ATBAI _readers will know that I ask for 5 reviews for a chapter, so if you read, please review. I finally got five for chapter 1. Thank you so much, again, you five!


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